When Drop Bears Attack
by Hailsy
Summary: Derek is dragged from his bed yet again by Stiles. This time it better be important. Oneshot.


Just a short bit of nonsense I wrote.

* * *

"It's three in the morning Stiles." Derek's voice rumbles out from the bed, halting Stiles as he tip-toes across the floor. The older man hasn't even opened his eyes.

"Yeah, I know, I know." Stiles silently curses Derek's keen sense of smell. The werewolf would have sensed the boy coming a mile away. Stiles stumbles, bashing his shin on something. His fingers catch on the end of a table. "Son of a-" He bites down on the words, balancing against the table and reaching down to rub a hand furiously over bruised skin. "You need to get up right now. We found something."

Derek's eyes flick open. He sits up slowly, not bothering to reach for the lamp beside the bed. His night vision was much better than Stiles'.

"What do you want Stiles?" He grumbles, running his hand through sleep-mused hair. How had he got into the apartment? Derek had taken away the set of keys Stiles had made for himself. How many copies did the boy have?

"You need to come." Stiles had managed to stumble over to the bed. "Now." He fumbles for the light switch, flicking on the lamp and casting a soft yellow glow over the room.

"Don't you have any boundaries?" Derek throws back the covers and swings his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Nope, now get up." Stiles watches as Derek pushes himself upright, his eyes drifting down to the Werewolf's bare chest. "… and maybe put a shirt on…" His eyes flick back up and he shrugs. "Or not. I don't mind."

Derek resists the urge to roll his eyes. Instead he goes to his dresser and pulls out a shirt. Tugging it over his head, he growls. "This better be an emergency."

Stiles leads the way out to the elevator, chattering about trees and STD's. None of it makes sense to Derek and he's deeply regretting leaving his bed.

Scott is waiting for them by Stiles' jeep, looking as exhausted as Derek feels.

"So, what's so important you idiots needed to drag me out of bed?" Derek reaches for the door of the jeep, wincing at the squeaking hinges. He motions for Scott to climb in first.

"Why do I have to sit in the back," Scott complains.

Stiles is already sitting behind the wheel and fumbling through his keys. "Do as he says Scotty, we don't have time to argue about this right now."

Scott mutters something under his breath, but Stiles' human ears don't pick it up.

Derek climbs into the car and slams the door shut. "Is someone going to explain to me what's going on- "

There's a loud bang as something large hits the windscreen. The glass splinters but remains in place.

Stiles shrieks.

"What the hell is that?" Derek's pushed himself back against his seat.

"It found us!" Stiles tries desperately to start his car.

"What is it?"

"It's a freaking koala bear!" Scott is leaning over the seats. He's got a white-knuckled grip on the leather.

"A what?"

"Uh, not a bear Scotty." Stiles' voice shakes as the engine roars to life.

"What?" Scott tears his eyes from the beast clawing at the windscreen to glare at his best friend.

"We talked about this on the way here." Stiles turns in his seat. "It's just koala. No bear necessary."

"Stiles, now's not the- "

"They're marsupials… you know. It's got a pouch." The creature is growling and gnashing its jagged teeth.

"Stiles!" Both Werewolves shout at once. "Shut up."

The mole-speckled boy raised his hands. "I'm just saying. Anyway, it's not really a koala. It's a drop bear, and… well, they're a hoax.

The noise coming out of the creature sets Derek's teeth on edge. It's sitting on the window right above him. If the glass gives, it's going to land right in his lap.

"Stiles," Derek keeps his eyes trained on the furry mass scratching at the glass. "Half the people we know are beings who aren't supposed to exist."

"This is different," Stiles argues. "Werewolves, banshees, hellhounds- they're myths and legends, yes, but drop bears are a confirmed hoax. They're not real. Never were. They're not even American!"

"That thing seems pretty real to me." Scott scoots closer to get a better look. The animal- drop bear- brings a clawed paw down, punching a hole through the windscreen.

All three men yelp. Scott throws himself right back.

"Why are we still sitting here?" Derek demands. "Drive Stiles!"

Stiles stomps down on the clutch and shifts into first gear. They accelerate forwards then lurch to a stop as Stiles tries to shake the animal from the jeep. With a crunch, he puts the car in reverse. The gearbox whines as they shoot backwards. A sharp tug on the steering wheel sends the jeep spinning. The drop bear goes flying from the bonnet.

Stiles hits the breaks and shifts into first. "Shhh," he pats the dashboard as the car revs loudly. They take off down the street.

"Did you see those teeth?" Scott leans forward in his seat again. "Don't Koala's eat leaves or something? Herbivores don't have teeth like that."

Stiles grips the steering wheel tightly. "Eucalyptus leaves and I told you. It's not a koala, it's a drop bear."

"You also told us they're not real," Derek chimes in from his seat.

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Obviously, I'm still figuring that part out."

"Okay," Derek crosses his arms over his chest. "So why is there a horror movie version of an Australian marsupial in Beacon Hills?"

"I don't know." Stiles runs a hand through his hair, trying to organise his thoughts.

"Do you know how we're supposed to kill the thing?"

Stiles chews on his bottom lip. "According to legend, the only defence is to -uh- cover yourself in Vegemite and talk in an Australian accent…"

"What the hell is Vegemite?" Scott asks.

"I dunno man." Stiles glances up at the rear-view mirror, meeting his friend's gaze. "Some sort of paste. I watched all these YouTube videos of people eating it off spoons and it looks fucking disgusting." His eyes flick across to Derek. "What?".

"You have got to be kidding me right now." Derek looks less than impressed.

"I wish Sour Wolf," Stiles shakes his head.

"Don't call me that."

"I've got a question," Scott pipes up from the back seat. "Can you even buy Vegemite here?"

Three hours later.

The sun is just cresting over the hills as the jeep rumbles into the parking lot. The windscreen is completely gone, kicked out by Derek so that they could actually see through the window.

He stumbles into the loft, Stiles close on his heels. They're both exhausted.

Stiles drapes himself over the back of a chair.

Derek settles for leaning against the wall. "Did you really think we'd be able to find Vegemite in Beacon Hills?"

"It was worth a try," Stiles mumbles tiredly.

"And your accent was terrible."

"What?" Stiles perks up a bit. "No way dude! I watched all the Crocodile Dundee movies. My accent was spot on."

Derek shakes his head, unable to form the words.

"Anyway," Stiles flaps a hand in Derek's direction. "Don't be such a Sour Wolf. We defeated the thing, didn't we?"

Derek pushed away from the wall. "What's this 'we' business? I killed the Drop Bear. You and Scott almost got us all killed."

"Where's your team spirit?" Stiles let his body slip down off the back of the chair so he's reclined across the arms. His eyes flutter tiredly.

"Go home Stiles," Derek crosses the floor to stand over the boy.

"Yeah, yeah. In a minute," Stiles murmurs.

Derek sighs and decides to let it drop. He turns, and makes his way to back to his room. His heavy curtains block out the early morning sun. The only light comes from the small lamp by the bed. He'd never turned it off after Stiles' late night visit.

Derek kicks off his shoes and sinks onto the bed.

He's asleep in minutes.


End file.
